


Baumkuchen!

by Forthebuns



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Betrayal, Björk-IRememberYou.mp3, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Espionage, Fluff, Get ready for the pain train bc it's coming soon, I wrote this because I like cake, Intense pining, Lots of secret spy things, Mutual Pining, Other, but like, lots of long convos, slow burn but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forthebuns/pseuds/Forthebuns
Summary: Set in 1948 post-war Japan, an angry baker and a horrible spy cross paths and end up intertwined.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to put this up July 1st :^), I thought it would be easy to flesh out a pre written fic. My pie hole is a lie-hole. Anyways, I listened to a lot of Björk while fleshing this out but my full playlist since last year for this fic is up here https://tinyurl.com/y3xu5cw7

Being told to 'Piss Off' despite being a very patient and paying customer is something Jiraiya can write off as new, given the circumstances. However, being told off isn't new, the words fuck off being the most popular variation from several women.

He wants to think it wasn't directed at him but instead at the ever growing crowd of weary but surprisingly vulgar men in fatigues surrounding the little shop, but the way those odd eyes cut into him specifically .....he can't be too sure.

Their eyes desert his, scraping along the crowd in contempt, tying their apron even tighter around themselves --honestly how much tighter can it go? Any more and they'll split in two, he thinks to himself-- as if preparing for an attack, which, granted, wasn't too far off from the circumstances.

There weren't many of them running the place, just five other girls bustling around in organized panic, and clearly this person, face filled with disgust and apron splattered with flour and cake, was the head of it all. They immediately catch Jiraiya’s interest.

"Listen, Miss, I do-"

"Don't. Call me Miss." they hiss, cutting into Jiraiya's voice.

"Well.....what should I call you?"

That seemed to get under their skin even more as they spat out 'Nothing'. Clearly, this was going well. Maybe this is a sign he should turn heel and continue on his way to his clandestine meet but he checks his watch and figures he has time to fight over a slice of warm cake to lift his spirits.

"You want the same thing the rest of these idiots want, so you can wait with them. You're fully willing to be pawns and die for anything, you can surely wait for cake." their words are like venom, further mumbling about how they refuse to let those idiots harass anyone working.

Jiraiya's eyes grow wide but doesn't let their words fully get to him, hard to take something personal if it doesn't apply to him. But he does take it in carefully, not budging but staying silent in contrast to the soldiers, loudly upset they had to deal with the head of the shop instead of the usual girls that service them. They quiet down very quickly once the shop head's eyes freeze them in place, swiping their money away in exchange for decorated boxes and sending them on their way without another word. It's fair to say that the other girls looked much calmer as the men dissipated.

"..it's been busy lately, huh? With people still trickling back in?" He tries again. The earlier description for attack was accurate, Jiraiya was used to watching the little place be surrounded from a distance, never actually checking it out until someone recommended it to him.

Unfortunately, no amount of small talk will take that scowl away, instead, getting a box shoved into his face, eliciting nothing more than a thoughtful hum before exchanging the box with money.

And in that moment, Jiraiya decided that he can't wait to play this game.

"So I'll see you tomorrow then?

He bets twenty dollars if he were standing any closer he would've been spat on, taking in the look of borderline murderous contempt before they turned away. He finds out, later on while picking apart this weeks intercepted messages, that this weird layer cake everyone seems to be so enamored with was just...ok. It's missing something or maybe needs a flavor to counteract the sweetness? It could be just him, hes not used to desserts like this. To be fair, growing up in America is enough to kill anyone's sense of taste.

But at this point, he's not going there just for the cake anymore.

He's been there no less than 5 times throughout the week, and still hasn't gotten their name. Maybe he really is losing his touch.... However he has gotten: cursed out, an empty cake box thrown at him, viciously ignored, almost burned twice, and, for good measure, one 'go to hell.’ And here he thought this was a sweet little bakery. Something in their actions should be telling him this is why he shouldn't be coming by everytime he has room to breathe on his info drops but...

"Well, just your luck, I'm already headed there!" he made the truth sound like a joke.

He thought he cracked the uptight facade with that one, seeing their face twitch oddly, but realized he didn't and, ah, hes gotten the finger instead.

\--

"You don't even know me, yet you hate me like I killed your pet dog or something..."

"....you're all lemmings who cant think for yourselves, being used as deadly pawns without regard to anyone else" is the first, not entirely vicious response hes gotten in two weeks.

He almost rebuttals to their back, that he doesn't know what the hell they're talking about, but remembers he has a facade of his own to upkeep.

"....ah....I...understand." he says in a different tone, quietly peering over their shoulder from so far away to watch the cake be coated with batter.

"Do you really?" Their voice is so low, he almost can't hear it over the idle sounds of the shop and the crackling flames lapping at the slow, careful turn of the cake covered spit.

"I probably don't, not how you might....." It's hard to lie this time.

"Dipshit." Jiraiya's never heard that word before, not in this dialect, and it takes him a moment to piece it together, but by the time he has and pulled away from his split thoughts, they’re gone, and so is the spit.

Jiraiya remembers their brief conversation yesterday when he compliments the new lacy apron and the way their hair is pulled back not as tightly today. He’s given a vacant but sharp stare in return. He gets the most expensive cake for sale that day as apology. It's still missing something.

\--

He follows them three days later.

In retrospect, this isn't the first time but it feels more...uncomfortable than any other time he's had to track someone. Maybe because he doesn't have a good reason to and he’s being a genuine creep. If homebase found out he was wasting time tracking one single civilian for no goddamn reason, they'd throttle him, but it's not like they will. Besides, he wasn't going to follow them home...just for five minutes...twenty......he can't remember after he followed them onto the train. They are also insanely difficult to follow. Either they're paranoid beyond belief or....they know he's there. He wouldn't put the latter past them. It's sunset when he watches them walk through the torii gates and it's the first time he's actually seeing them because it's not like he's actually had time to be a tourist, but he watches as they walk through like they've done it a million times before.

It's a breathtaking sight, seeing the hundreds of bright red torii perfectly lined up and stretching into forever...but watching them occasionally fix their sandal or push their hair back into a messy bun was....arguably more interesting.

Jiraiya has enough decency to leave when he watches their hands meet a very particular pillar with familiarity and fondness.

\--

"I had a dream about you." Something tells Jiraiya he just missed out on the most vicious eyeroll to date, not getting a response as per usual, so he continues to their back, eyes flitting over the blue and white patchwork quality of today's kimono.

"I kept asking for your name over and over but you kept naming different kinds of sweets.....and then I drowned in them" he sighs wistfully, arms propped up on the counter among colorful boxes of pastries "....my favorite was anmitsu..."

"....stop leaning on the counter" they don't even turn around once and Jiraiya grins, pulling away from the counter to mill about the almost empty shop, happy about the slow midday traffic.

He's been getting snapped at much less, usually when their back is to him and there are much fewer people, their conversations much more indirect. He wants to think they're listening but just not responding to him except when they feel like it, when they are comfortable with it.

Of course...just when hes making some increments of progress, he's 'spontaneously' pulled to the capital on some dead end, paranoid report. He can't be mad, really, anything could happen in this period of instability, but it ate an entire week before he even knew it. Long hours spent pouring over coded messages and listening in on mundane government calls only to catch ...nothing. Well...there's the two high level affairs going on that he'd like to dig into because he just knows it'll end in disaster, and maybe he can meddle a bit, _maybe_ leak some information on that to the press in the future. Just for fun.

But seriously, he didn't even get to _do_ anything this time, he hates ‘stakeouts’ with every fiber of his soul....deep cover is gonna fucking kill him with boredom, he swears. He quickly corrects that line of thought with the fear of being jinxed, preferring the boredom to near death experiences.

What he did not expect was the look he got stepping into the bakery exactly a week and three days later, seeing their odd eyes register him in surprise, and then sheer annoyance before they returned to the baumkuchen turning in front of them.

They're fucking pissed with him for leaving, able to read it through their face and body....and Jiraiya has never been happier to have someone cross with him.

"....did you miss me?" He grins despite the stone cold silence that follows, then clears his throat, trying not to act giddy at this discovery. "Im sorry, I should hav-"

"I don't give a shit about where you went." He.....didn't know you could hiss gently, he wishes he could see their face right now, instead taking to watching their metaphorical hackles rise.

".....I'll be sure to let you know next time. "

They lapse back into their routine for three days, backhanded insults and compliments leading up to the often expensive purchase of the day until Jiraiya completely and utterly fucks up.

He can usually take it when they start stabbing at him with remarks on how much they hate the state and idiotic, senseless soldiers, he knows it doesnt apply to him, this is just a cover up and they don't know, he won't blame them. And they aren't wrong in their views and reasoning, hell, he'd be saying the same if it wasn't his neck literally on the line. That doesn't it make it sting less that hes being grouped in with the very system he's against, his frustration only seeming to grow. Hes trained to keep his composure and never falter but he wants to say something, fucking anything.

Jiraiya....truthfully doesn't remember how it started or what they said...he does remember snapping, hands dug into the counter so hard hes sure that if it wasnt stone he would have cracked it. He was smart enough to keep his voice low, a growl when he said " _I'm on your side, idiot!_ " He didn't, however, think hard enough to not automatically speak in English and thus, blow his cover to a goddamn baker. He's never seen their eyes this wide or even seen a look of genuine shock on their face. He only takes a few moments to stare, mumbling an apology in the correct language, before ducking out of the shop as quickly as possible.

Standard protocol is, once compromised, to eliminate any and all witnesses, debrief, and relocate. Jiraiya claims he doesn't know what a protocol is and chooses to sulk in a vaguely western style apartment that still doesn't feel any closer to home than when he started this mission months ago. He curses himself in as many languages that he thinks are necessary, and smacks himself a few times before settling onto the floor to stare at the ceiling. He doesn't blame them once.

Jiraiya doesn't understand...how they managed to get a rise out of him (yes he does, he was already wound up by an informant going sour on him earlier that day). It's not embarrassing or demoralizing but...there's no word for how he feels yet. He lolls his head to the side, now staring at the latest empty pastry box from the Juchheim, keeping his eyes trained there as the sun slid over him.

He's up and out again before the last of its rays leave the room.

Jiraiya isn't built for classic stealth, hiding in the shadows andall that shit. He hides in crowds, and despite his appearance, plays off the tourist role well. But he is good at making his footsteps quiet enough that hes practically on top of the head of shop without them noticing.

Yes, he memorized their schedule. For reasons.

He startles them, two shocked expressions in one day, but Jiraiya doesn't stop there, crowding them against the door and pointedly looking down at them, ignoring the smell of sugar and fire obviously coming from the much smaller baker "....you aren't gonna say anything about earlier, and I promise you won't get hurt. Got it?"

"......you're really bad at this." is their reply, sounding as bored as they now looked.

"I'm not joking."

"You're not, but I know you won't do it. If you wanted me dead, it would have already happened by now." Is their calm response.

Jesus christ.

This is the most they've ever talked to each other and it had to be when Jiraiya decides to threaten them.

"Listen..."

"That's what I always do, isn't it?"

It takes Jiraiya aback, staring as they turned around to finish locking up the shop.

"Back up." And Jiraiya, dumbfounded and feeling a bit like a child, takes four steps back, watching as they checked the door before turning to face him.

"Let's go. For all the trouble you caused me today, the least you can do is escort me home." They tuck their keys away into the folds of their kimono and walk past his frozen form.

He deflates.

"......sure."

When they ask their first question in almost two months- What's the truth?- Jiraiya doesn't know what possesses him to tell them almost everything on the empty train ride. His cover is blown out the water and frankly, weirdly...he doesn't care. Thank god for the last car of the evening train because he isn't sure how to covertly explain that he's an American spy sent to keep post war tabs on the currently shaky, metamorphosing government.

".....Juchheim is apart of your investigation?"

"Yes." He lies smoothly, unable to tell them he was only there for the cakes. Now he's there for...well… that's even harder to explain right now. "That part is.....classified." Maybe it's better he didn't tell them exactly what deep cover is. He's not even sure if he could.

They don't look shaken by this reveal in the slightest as they gently sway from the trains movement and he can't help but stare, sitting right across from them.

"Well...at least youre not a stupid soldier...just normal stupid." Is their nonchalant response.

"Ah....." is all Jiraiya can seem to muster.

“International stupid.” they mumble to themselves, making him deflate further.

He doesn't memorize the way to their home, or the way the dim lights in the older buildings and homes barely make it to their path, the trees curling in on them as nature fills every other space. Entirely unforgettable and he doesn't commit it to photographic memory.

Their home isn't some grand, sprawling place, just slightly smaller and older than others they passed but its most certainly well taken care of, the sheer amount of plants surrounding it makes him think this place is unreal.

"Didn't know being a baker got you this kind of money..."

"It doesn't." They don't sound upset when they say it, their voice much softer. Brushing past Jiraiya, they speak again,"You keep calling me that, or shop head. I'm a meister, so get it right." They say it loud enough for him to hear.

Watching them unlock their door, he smirks.

"That doesn't replace your name, yknow."

"Why should I tell you mine when you haven't had the decency or brains to tell me yours?" The door unlocks with a soft click and Jiraiya's mouth drops open.

".....thank you. For walking me home, not for being annoying" they look over their shoulder, Jiraiya unable to see into the pitch black of their house, but hes close enough to be hit with the smell of strong, earthy spice.

"Close your mouth, that's how moths get in."

As if that weren't enough, he watches as they pull a wooden clip from their hair as they close the door. There's a moment of watching their hair tumble down like heavy black silk before they're gone and it takes even longer for Jiraiya to fix his damn face.

He thought their interactions were going to be the same until he either left town or died, he'd gotten so familiar with monotony that there's something in how unpredictable they've shown themselves to be that's...a positive kind of exciting.

(Negative exciting isn't really that bad, it's just that they usually mean attempts on his life.)

Escorting them --no, wait, the _meister_ \--home has silently become apart of their 'routine' for the next two weeks, sometimes they talk, with Jiraiya learning much about breads, trying to refrain from speaking about his more violent missions despite the obvious prying, or take jabs at each other ...or flirt, terribly. That part is mostly one sided.

"You said you're from Hawai'i...your mother's side.." they repeat Jiraiya's words carefully after a pause from explaining their training in Germany and France, sitting next to him on the train and staring out the small window at the dusky sky "...do you miss it, doing things like this?"

For the second time since they met, his mind goes blank.

"Ah.." he takes a moment to shake his head, trying to clear it "...Of course I miss it. I mean...that's why they chose me for this..close to home but not really having one at all. But I mean, no one's waiting for me there, not anymore. If anything I'm torn between here and there...not here, ‘here’ but, yknow" he points down, suggesting the south, before staring out the window "...though, this place has started feeling like a real home lately. Makes sense, its where the heart is, isn't it?” Without a response from them he shifts a little uncomfortably, mumbling “You're right, I do talk too much. Just....I miss it. A lot. But I think this is the first time I've actually liked the change of scenery...kinda feel like I belong, despite the shit I have to do." he watches the sun disappear behind the flickering trees again, feeling something heavy and warm hit his shoulder.

He's not going to blame them for falling asleep in the middle of his mild crisis, their day was nothing but long and exhausting as they often are. Locs of hair started to separate from their top knot, falling onto his shoulder where they currently have their cheek smooshed against.

"......Dipshit" hes not going to blame him but this is the perfect opportunity to try out a new word. He does, however, make sure he doesn't move too much outside of the trains occasional shaking while his sparing glances turn into full on staring.

\--

Jiraiya dreams about them again.

The first dream he had was more like a recurring daydream, but you don't say that you casually think about someone during the day especially when they hated your guts. Saying it's a dream puts it out of your control. Psychology or something like that. But this....he swears when he woke up he could still smell deep, smokey spice, tasting something sweet and comforting, the feeling of silk in his hands. He sits up, disheveled and frustrated, hands in his lap and pressing down _hard_ , thinking of nothing but foul things.

It's hard to look at them straight on later that day, imagine if he actually decided to be a heathen and beat off to _that_ , he wouldn't have the guts to step foot into the shop let alone talk to them. He buys the most expensive cake again as a silent apology, noting there's something different about it now. Its close to what he's used to in desserts but no cigar.

\--

".....why are you telling me your name now?" They ask a week later and Jiraiya swears this is advanced paranoia.

"Because normal people tell each other their names instead of waiting two months out of spite?"

They squint at him from their darkened doorway, realizing that trying to take a stab at them at their house was probably not the best idea.

"...Orochimaru."

"Huh.....thats unique" he says after a beat.

"Fuck off."

"Wait, wait, that's not what I meant" he quickly steps closer, getting daggers glared up at him "I've just...never heard it before. I mean, not like I've had the opportunity to hear much like that where I'm from but... It suits you."

".....go home, Jiraiya." There's no spite or annoyance in Oro's voice when they cut into his rambling, it's just soft as they close the door and Jiraiya grins wide because he's never heard his own name sound that sweet.

He knows his dreams are going to be interesting tonight because he was close enough to smell that spice again, and if it wasn't for his current, worrying situation of being possibly tracked from Tokyo, he'd be looking forward to it more.

(He was right, the imagined silken slide and warm weight of them and that fucking smell is enough to convince him that being a heathen once wasnt bad and is, in fact, perfectly natural.)

(Twice, it turns out, because he imagined Oro saying his name in _very_ different ways.)

\--

Oro addresses him by name that morning without looking up from whatever they were filling with jam and when it 'accidentally' goes straight to his dick, he realizes today is full of challenges for him.

"I see you just can't help but keep my name in your mouth!"

"And you can't help but keep your head up your ass." They say it without missing a beat, still not looking up and honestly Jiraiya would say he's smitten.

But he doesn't. Because hes not. Clearly.

Hes DEFINITELY not, even when Oro shockingly offers him a jam filled pastry to try and, judging by the other shop girls' completely bewildered faces and hushed whispers, they've never done this before. It's perfect, the flavors remind him of....old things, comforting things, but he just says it's really good and buys a box, which seems to be enough for them, noting their quiet but obvious pride.

Free food is something Jiraiya is happy to add to their routine.

But he doesn't get to enjoy it for long, their routine is, quite literally, cut into by what was supposed to be an anxious hunch.

\--

Jiraiya comes to in a world of hurt, a loud voice, and a searing pain in his right side.

It's jarring, but it's not the first time he's woken up this way..

"Hey, asshole, I thought I told you to stay awake" hes gently smacked on the not horribly sore side of his face, trying to focus on who the hell is still hitting him.

"...thank fucking god.." his mouth feels like it has a wad of cotton shoved in it but hes no less thankful to see Tsunade, crouched over him and blood up to her elbows.

"Id prefer Tsu but god works just fine" she mutters pressing gauze, ice and cloth into him, drawing out a hiss.

"Yknow, if you actually told me when you decide to go out and do dumb shit, I could be way better equipped to deal with your equally dumb aftermaths."

He doesn't respond but she takes the silent apology.

He does remember getting jumped, five to one in a cramped alley is a fucked ratio but he handled them regardless. Didn't know there was a knife until it was in him. Or the brass knuckles until they went clean against the side of his face. He had enough time to make it home to debrief about the mess he made, then called Tsunade before passing out on the floor.

Solid score with this one.

"I cleaned up most of the blood on the outside of your place so, yknow, you dont fuck yourself over with nosy neighbors. In here, that's your problem." She skillfully threads a large curved needle with one hand and Jiraiya starts to sweat from nerves and blood loss.

"Wait, wait..."

"For??? What?? I can practically see your ribs."

He motions to the phone, Tsunade dragging it over with a puzzled look as he mumbled about getting something set up.

When Oro gets called to the phone, they didn't expect this.

"What do you want?" He can't believe the hard edge of their voice is giving him a level of comfort.

"If it was any other time, believe me I'd be more than happy to tell you. In great detail" They realize he sounds...off and frowns.

"But I really need your help. Please."

"Talk." Their impatient seeps through at being called at the end of their work day.

"I...can't. You might have worms in your walls. But..." he hisses, holding back a curse as Tsunade inspects the deep gash. "Let me see you tonight. I can't walk you home but, if I can meet you there.."

"......fine." their voice is soft again and christ, he could melt right now.

"Thank you." He sighs and promptly hangs up, leaving blood on the receiver.

Oro does the same, staring at the phone for sometime before heading back. There's a feeling in their chest telling them that this might be more than they bargained for.

"Please tell me if you have something to numb or knock me out." he groans, practically feeling his heart beat throbbing through his sliced open side.

"....you gave me less than thirty minutes to haul my ass over here and you expect me to be an entire hospital?" She huffs, pulling a bottle of sake, a strip of leather and a small block of ice out her bag

"I swear you hate me..." he breathes out.

"That's an understatement. Come on, bite down on this and try not to scream too loud, yeah?" She shoves the leather into his mouth.

In truth, the sake was mostly for herself. She used some to disinfect the wound but sewing up your friend and coworker on limited supplies is stressful.

\--

He wakes up again in pitch black, throat hoarse from dehydration and an unbearably painful surgery but much less outright agony. The pain in his side hasn't dissipated though, it almost radiates through him and he smells nothing but dark spices. He feels safe and warm enough so he immediately slips back into sleep. An enourmous mistake, sure, but he can't possibly fuck up anymore than he has already.

Someone's touching him. Calloused fingertips running along his cheek, then his jaw, back and forth. Eventually, his hair too. He leans into the cooling touch before he's woken up to the sound of his name being called.

It takes a moment to register Oro in the early daylight. Hes never seen them with their hair fully down before and...it's ...really long, stopping around their waist. It frames their face nicely and, in his hazy mind, is very tempting to touch.

"....you were bleeding on my doorstep last night."

Ah.

He was coherent enough to get there in one piece and without being seen, but the moment he saw Oro, he all but fell apart, leaning his full weight into them. Which must have been an ordeal because they're at least a good six, seven inches shorter with a much smaller frame.

"Before you try to talk..." they nudge him to sit up carefully, handing him a glass of water and pills once they get him up enough .

"I changed it for you" they tap a finger at the new bandage on his side with a comment “No infection. They're good stitches."

"....I'm sorry." He manages to croak out after being pushed back down.

"...I know."

Jiraiya is genuinely sorry but right now his brain is mush and he cant stop thinking about wanting to touch Oro's hair. He gets their hands in his hair instead, pushing it out of the way to place a cool wet cloth on his forehead.

"For all your supposed bravery.....you're still really dumb." Jiraiya shrugs one shoulder at that, watching them tuck long black strands behind their ear.

"I always thought that was my best quality" he manages to smile at the put off look they gave him before closing his eyes, feeling tired again.

Oro forgets to remove their hand from Jiraiya's hair, pulling it back into their lap and taking a moment to think, glancing at his tired and bruised face before getting up to make tea.

Hours later, as he's getting his face iced, Jiraiya is scolded. He explained that he was probably being followed from Tokyo, though it's....weird. They could've easily killed him. But no one had anything more lethal than a blade. He thinks it was a warning from local government but it doesn't add up in his head.

"I dunno what that was about..I should be dumped in a ravine somewhere, more likely the ocean, but...." he winces, ice being shoved into his face. Oro doesn't like when he talks like that, he's quickly finding out.

He's finding out a lot of things in the forty eight hours he's been under their roof, like how much of a pushy nurse they are, and that they really, really like snakes as the room he's been recovering in is full of snake shaped objects. He feels like hes being watched, more than normal. Anytime he tries to get up and snoop around more he gets caught and pushed back onto the futon with "If you hurt yourself again I'm throwing you into the goddamn streets." Obviously an empty threat but it's...a comforting threat? He wants to tease them for caring. It still hurts to move so it's best to listen to them for now. In the meantime, he'll keep going through the dozens of little snake things hes trapped with in an attempt to find out more about the big snake. And annoy the living hell out of them. At least he thinks he's doing a good job at those things, it's hard to tell.

\--

"You...killed them, didn't you?" Oro says it like a deep dark secret in the broad daylight and Jiraiya just shrugs, trying to avoid the subject and stating cleanly "...No witnesses policy." Oro takes that and nothing else in silence.

"...You're really good at sewing huh?" He mentions lightly, fingers brushing against the deep blue sleeve of their yukata before shoving a piece of castella into his mouth. He's thankfully been allowed to go outside after complaining that he'll rot away in the snake room.

"I'm not. My mother is....Was.”

Jiraiya stares at a plant, beating himself up for that.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"You didn't know, it's fine." They easily and calmly cut him off, taking a slice of castella, looking it over.

His eyes shift to Oro’s lap, looking over the indigo fabric stitched with white thread in concentric patterns, wanting to say something else but letting the windchimes fill in for him.

\--

The day Oro leaves to check on Juchheim is the day Jiraiya receives a short list of things to do.

"You thought I'd let you stay here just because? Besides, you say you're fine enough to move around." their words are ended with the first smile he gets from them, but it's absolutely sinister.

He loves it.

"..you ass...you've been collecting a tab on me this whole time.." he smiles regardless "I thought you just liked me enough to baby me."

"...you must have been hit harder than I thought." They muse, back turned to him.

Apparently, if he does a good enough job, they'll make something nice for him and honestly, that's all the motivation he needs.

It doesn't take long, the list is just a bunch of stuff Oro is too short to do, mostly moving objects and furniture and dusting (He has to keep from laughing every ten minutes at realizing), but he does take the opportunity to explore. If it's locked, he won't pick it, but that applies to very few places.

He finds their room pretty quickly.

He had gotten used to the spice filled air of the rest of the house, but their room was different, like heavy rain and citrus. He steps around random stacks of books, potted plants and papers, ducking under wind chimes and more hanging plants. Its terribly cozy, the light filters inside in the softest way and...he snorts because they didn't put their futon away.

(It feels like a cloud. He promises he'll get up in five minutes...maybe it was ten...twenty?)

Jiraiya wakes up when a bowl of something cold is placed on his stomach. He curses, stopping himself from going into defense mode and running a hand over his face in shock and looking over.

"Oro..." there's ...a spoon in their mouth when they turn their head to look. And their yukata is different, pastel yellow with flowers dancing up from the hem, legs tucked neatly underneath themselves as they go from looking out the low window to watching Jiraiya come to.

"I can't believe you actually did what I asked....yes I can." They remove the spoon, using it to point at the bowl resting on Jiraiya. He sits up to inspect it.

"....holy shit"

"You said anmitsu was your favorite. Also your hair is a disaster "

"Listen...I'm sorry for coming here without asking.."

"Are you making nicknames for me in your head? You've never called me Oro before." They pop a dango in their mouth nonchalantly and Jiraiya’s guilt is replaced and tripled with red hot embarrassment. He tries to respond but he just...

Croaks.

"...you're a terrible spy."

"Yeah, I think so too." He wheezes out, quickly spooning anmitsu into his mouth, watching them tuck their hair back and moving a plant to the side to switch on a radio, crackling to life in the middle of a novel reading and he can't help but to settle himself down to listen. The distance has been closing between them as hours pass --or more realistically, as the days have passed-- finding themselves in the same position they were on the train, the warmth on Jiraiya’s shoulder making him nod off this time.

\--

He wonders, in a haze of sleep, why they're so far away from him? He imagines they're pretty cold, so he draws them closer, unable to place what they smell like now but he knows they're warm, running a hand through their hair to feel the silk he's only dreamt about.

\--

Jiraiya doesn't know what the hell he's holding onto when morning comes, too sleepy to open his eyes, but he squeezes and pulls it closer.

When 'it' makes a noise, his eyes fly open.

He sees black then pale yellow, pulling away slowly to look down at where Oro was clearly in his arms. They're still very much asleep, hair spilled and curled around both of them, yukata slipping off their shoulder and his eyes follow for a moment before looking away. Normally...he'd be one to indulge a little, to stay there and stare and maybe even spur it on but there's something in him now holding him back, telling him to leave this now.

He moves half an inch and he's immediately got a hand gripping his shirt.

Jiraiya is sweating bullets, watching them blink awake, taking their time to look over their shoulder out the window --checking for the sun? It hasn't even risen yet-- before turning back to face him, hair falling in their face. He tries not to look away when their eyes meet his. Oro doesn't say anything, just stares, and Jiraiya is reminded of one iron cast snake statue in particular from his recovery. Their grip slacks, using their other hand to yank the duvet over their shoulder and promptly fall back asleep. He realizes, after a few moments of bewilderment, this dusty blue duvet was nowhere to be seen last night. Absolutely....unprecedented. But more importantly this means he's still got it, his brain stupidly registers. His flight response dissipates, knowing that they chose him and doesn't hesitate for another second to crawl back under the duvet as well.

Jiraiya being.....himself, finds out two things. One, their chest is very warm and not as flat as he thought it to be, and two, being a baker gives one quick reflexes and incredibly vicious arm strength, even in the middle of sleep. He now doubts they had trouble dragging him into their house days before. They were nice enough to not damn near break a rib on his bad side. And to let themselves keep being held by a man who doesn't know the difference between a slice and the whole cake.

\--

"You're hiding right now, aren't you? Because of what happened in Tokyo" their voice drifts over to Jiraiya, currently serving punishment by pruning every plant in the house starting in Oro’s room. He could leave now, honestly, he just doesn't know why he hasn't....

This is like repaying a debt, right?

"Kind of...how do you hide when you're already hidden?"

"I don't do riddles" they deadpan, pouring themselves another cup of tea.

"Then, yeah" he huffs out a laugh "I'm hiding. I usually leave town but..." he trails off, pulling at vines and dead leaves.

"..What do you mean?" Jiraiya can hear the tone shift in their voice--worry.

"If it's bad enough, I'll dip for a few days, weeks, cover my tracks, throw whoever's onto me off. If it's not too big of a blow, I'll come back. If I'm screwed, well...." he curses, almost killing a plant with a distracted snip to the base.

When they go quiet, Jiraiya looks over his shoulder, flashing a grin and holding up a little fern still intact "I won't be gone long so you don't have to miss me too badly."

".....I could go a few days without seeing your terrible face." That makes him snort.

There was something unspoken and heavy in their silence, more than just missing him.

Jiraiya knows the next time he leaves town, it's going to be a challenge.

\--

"Oro isn't my nickname for you, yknow."

That gets a tired, tired look from them, they're just trying to proof the rest of their melon pan dough but ever since Jiraiya stepped foot into the kitchen hes been.....a menace.

"What is it then?" They sigh, watching as he gets crumbs everywhere trying to shove half a finished melon pan in his mouth.

"It's- holy shit, it actually tastes like honeydew, how'd you do that?"

"Close your mouth."

He does at their barked order and there's silence, finally. Oro goes back to checking the proving, watching the sun disappear in the process as they look under the tea towels.

"Dollface."

"Wh-"

"Did I say it wrong? I dunno if there's a word for that specifically....I just remember seeing a really fancy doll when I was a kid...a courtesan, I think. The face looked kinda like yours and every thirty seconds someone was telling me not to touch." he huffs out the last of his words, the memory more fond than annoying.

Oro's being stared at now, calculating at first, then....a look that's threatening to make the redness of their ears spill onto their face.

"She really did look like you....except those eyes, they're nuts." The wistfulness in his voice dropped.

He receives a tea towel, empty calpis bottles and a cooled melon pan flung directly into his skull. An additional 'Fucking Dipshit' was thrown at him.

Oro cuts the stitches out of him that night, 'accidentally' tugging them out too hard and getting satisfying noises of discomfort. And yet, they find themselves curled up next to him later that night after another novel reading, wondering.....what exactly is this? The lull of domesticity they haven't experienced in over five years clawing at them has their mind racing. Are they really this desperate for warmth and contact that they'll let some strange, dangerous, foreigner this close to them?

They don't exactly remember how they answered themselves when they're being lulled to sleep by curious hands in their hair the moment their eyes close.

\--

"You're whipped."

Jiraiya will take any and all comments and insults thrown his way by Tsunade but hes not taking this one, at least without a fight.

"No, no I'm not." He hisses, covering the receiver of the phone he's holding just in case someone at homebase finally decides to pick up.

"You promised your 'friend' you'd always tell them where you're going and when you'll be back. Whipped."

"That's what friends do??"

"I've known you for 5 years and you cant even tell me the time of day without speaking in riddles."

"If I breathe wrong I could be compromised." he states firmly.

"Two things. You compromised yourself by spilling your guts to a civilian, literally and figuratively. And how do you know they won't get you caught? Did you even check for bugs?"

He didn't. He did not check for bugs.

"Fuck....." he whispers, knowing he has to go back to the shop as soon as possible, knowing there might already be an infestation. All because of him. He didn't mean for it to become a cover, he just...wanted to see Oro, pick up some sweets. But it's too late, he was spotted there enough times for it to become a place of interest.

".....you're god awful." She flops back onto his couch, rubbing her face, the only thing betraying her relaxed position "At least invite me to the wedding. Provided you don't get whacked before then."

He was going to tell her to shut up but hears a click over the line.

She watches him go still before his shoulders drop and quietly hang up.

"You got put on ‘Vacation’ ?''

"Yeah." He mumbles.

"You seem more put off by it than usual, surprised even. You did ice five men in one go. Ohhhhh! You're sad you can't take your new little crush with you?"

She dodges a Juchheim box thrown her way.

\--

Jiraiya told them he'd be gone for at least two days to plan his next move. Oro lied straight through their teeth that they couldn't wait for him to go.

They'd finally gotten used to the emptiness of the house only for the uncomfortable quiet to come back full force. That's what the wind chimes were for, but lately they prefer something more......obnoxious.

They don't like him. He's made of everything Oro isn't , all somehow shoved into one person and placed before them. And no, when he shows up at the shop a day earlier than planned before opening, they don't feel relief, or lighter on their feet, or any of those dumb sensations.

He's all grins and actually wearing a suit that fits him, not the look of a man who was near death a little over two weeks ago. Oro wishes he'd lean closer, a little more over the counter.

So they can wipe that smile off his face. By hitting him.

"I got two questions for you today. No riddles I promise. Could I....borrow your hair tie?" He does this thing where he talks with his hands, Oro's eyes following every wild gesture before looking down at their own wrist where Jiraiya was miming. "Dumb American." They mutter, slipping the charm off their wrist, taking a moment to unpin the actual charm and handing him the tassel covered elastic. They're only giving it to him because his hair is all over the place; flyaways, curls and all.

Or maybe he looks better with his hair back. Maybe lavender suits him. It's all up in the air.

"Ah, you saved my life again!" he sighs, hair out of his face, the hair tie all but vanished "So...wanna come with me to Kobe for five days??" He says it so quickly, Oro almost didn't catch it.

Almost.

"Are you seriously out of your mind???" They're hissing and Jiraiya briefly wonders if there's a true lisp underneath it.

"Ehhhhhh just a little bit...I just wanted to repay you for taking care of me. I know you wouldn't wanna be gone for two whole weeks so....five." He talks as he toys with everything within reach on the counter, drawing a slight frown from Oro.

".....why Kobe?"

"Hot spring."

He gets a dirty look.

"...This isn't funny."

"I'm as serious as I can be right now" he stares at the charm they placed on the counter, contemplating it before scratching the side of his head

"You don't have to go if-"

"I'm coming with you."

"Eh?" He looks at them again, wide eyed and hand trapped in his hair.

"I need to make sure you don't get yourself killed again."

"I don't think you can stop that from happening..."

"Watch me."

Jiraiya knows he's got to stop chasing after spitfires but he really...really can't help it.

Oro starts to step back, sliding the charm across the counter, not expecting Jiraiya's hand to come down on top of theirs, pulling them closer with a short tug as he leaned just slightly over the counter. Their heart skips a beat, much to their disgust.

"When did you get this?" he asks lowly.

"...yesterday. From a customer. There was a festival and he gave it to me for future good business." they hesitate in remembering as they usually never take gifts but charms are a different story , feeling the edge of the counter bite into their hips, looking everywhere but his face. They quietly thank god the shop is still closed, praying that none of the bakers come to the front of shop with questions.

"Sounds right. I don't remember this." He turns their hand over, still holding it as he looks over the gold charm. Oro tried not to think about the feel of his very warm skin and how his hand easily cradled and dwarfed theirs.

"Yup." He yanks the tie out of his hair with a sharp snap, pulling at it before easing a thin metallic line out of it, fidgeting with the tassels before crushing one in his hand. They won't get a single damn word from their conversation after burying it into his hair, effectively muffling the device. It's bold to hand these things directly to civilians, but whatever it takes, huh?

"Remember what I said about the worms?" Oro nods slowly, eyes wide as they process what that was and suddenly feel the skin of their wrist get hot.

"That's the only one I see right now. Hopefully no more come your way."

Their head is scattered for the rest of the day, trying not to be too calculating about every customer that comes in and asking the other girls to double down in refusing little gifts from regulars.

More than that, unfortunately, they think about his hands.

They look down at their own, covered in batter flecks and flour, too many calluses and accidental burns and cuts. He's made of everything they're not, including softness.

The last time they were that close, Oro smelled nothing but blood and grime, then the scent of his own home from being there so long.

This time, it was lotus and the smell of an oncoming storm and...

Just....describing it like that in their head makes Oro hit themselves. They're in entirely too deep.

Worse still, he threw a casual 'Til next time, Dollface' at them and Anko, a young prodigy meister in training for over three years, threw Oro a look from the depths of hell. They couldn't do anything but let her stare holes into the back of their rapidly reddening neck.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in 1948 post-war Japan, an angry baker and a horrible spy cross paths and end up intertwined. But they both find the threads holding them close are breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H....hi. Long time no post,,,thank you to my many betas (esp Kay, you went hog wild dude!!) and no thank you to my anxiety and writers block. AND AN EVEN BIGGER THANK YOU TO MY FRIEND BONITA FOR MAKING THIS BEAUTIFUL COMMISSION FOR ME FOR THIS FIC? PLEASE GO COMMISSION HER TOO @bunbunbunn_ ON TWIT!!

  
"You're late." Orochimaru speaks without lifting their head, deftly picking leftover bits of unleavened dough from their cuticles.

"Can I be honest? It's really creepy when you do that." Oro looks over their shoulder, being met with an uncomfortable expression from Jiraiya.

"Grow up."

"Uhhhh, For all I know, I'm probably older than you." he moves closer, nudging their side.

"......twenty nine." They pull their bag on their shoulder, walking towards the train, shining bright as the light of the day fades around them.

"Ah....we're the same age.." Jiraiya says in awe, following right behind them. He notes they're wearing hakama the same pattern as their mother's kimono tucked into...striped socks.

He’s not gonna say it.

"Cute." Jiraiya says it anyway, sitting close to them. Too close, apparently, because he gets mushed in the face, but not before seeing their very red ears.

He wants to clarify he meant their clothes, but he knows damn well that's a lie.

\--

"You took me along because they think I'm an accessory." Oro states this like its a fact ten minutes into the trip.

".....Wh- where are you getting this?????" It takes Jiraiya a few quiet moments to put together what Oro was talking about.

"Context clues. They wouldn't spy on the shop if they weren’t suspicious." They speak quietly, picking at their nails again. “They wouldn't if you weren't there..”

That makes his chest tighten because they're absolutely spot on. Maybe they even know that he fucked up by visiting so often. But Jiraiya is trying to kill two birds with one stone, relaxing for the first time in over a month while mending his mistakes, but the rightful worry and stress pouring off of them is making him worry too. Seeing a different side of them is interesting but...this is the worst way about it.

"They're only looking for me..so dont worry about the shop. I've only been talking to you and if they try any shit...I'll handle it, cuz you're my friend." he sinks into his seat as much as he can, crossing his arms to show he’s serious because, well, he is. Deadly serious. He’d gotten Oro into this mess and he's determined to fix it. It's the right thing to do for a...

"Friend?" Is all Oro says, Jiraiya turning his head to look at them and almost croaking at the weird expression on their face (hopefulness?) before they turn back to the window to watch everything pass by.

"Uh...Yeah." The conviction in his voice is weak, but it seems to convince Oro enough to nod once.

"Thank you."

"...yeah," he stares at the carved wooden clip in their hair, holding firm despite the shaking train. “Sure.”

He's gotta stop lying to himself.

\--

Jiraiya assumed Oro wasn't someone with expensive taste but he is quickly regretting telling them not to worry about money, that he'll cover them.

He should've taken it back when they smiled at him, a clear omen, but he was so caught off guard by the sweet looking expression on their normally serious face.

"It's been two days. We haven't even gotten close to visiting the actual onsen yet but you wasted no time dropping almost two hundred on any and everything" he huffs out, sitting next to Oro on the plush futons he pushed together in the center of the room. Because of course, after staying with Oro those few weeks, Jiraiya couldn't think to sleep any other way. In fact, it almost annoyed him to see the bedding separate.

"You spent two hundred, since you graciously offered. I wonder why you haven't said no to me yet?" Oro shoves something expensive, dusted with matcha and cream filled into their mouth, stretching out on the soft bedding like a lazy cat, and Jiraiya is suddenly twice as conflicted and very warm. He tries to ignore how their soft clothes pull and drape against their body, but it's hard seeing as he's never seen them fully relax like this. It's all...very, very hard.

"Because I said I'd take care of you." Hm, that sounds....

“Oh? I don't remember those words exactly, but I'd say you're doing more than a good job at that.” They're teasing him openly at this point, licking matcha off their finger tips.

“I didn't mean-N-not spoil you...wait..." he gives up, hiding his face in his hands, groaning at how much he fails to keep it together.

He doesn't miss out on seeing their serpentine smile between his fingers and concludes this trip was a mistake.

(He’s enjoying this side of them too much.)

\--

Regardless, Jiraiya doesnt know who the fuck he's brought along on this trip, the difference between Oro’s public and private self is sending him on a goddamn ride and...frankly, he's itching to pry deeper.

But not yet, hes currently trying to ignore their 'sound' reasoning for making him buy expensive alcohol and clothes.

He caves.

\--

Oro jumps out of their skin when a warm hand presses itself against their back and a deep, tired voice ask "What are you doing?" in the dead of night. Oro’s not going to describe his voice as anything more than that in their head because the moment they do, the earth will swallow them whole.

".....full moon..." is their reply, swallowing the shakiness in their voice.

"Ah..." Jiraiya looks up, taking a seat next to them on the engawa "...shit's huge."

They give him a look, then really look at him, eyes wide.

"Where are your clothes?"

"Huh? I'm wearing them???" He points at himself, the half tied, dark yukata leaving very little to the imagination. Oro's mind tries to fill in the gaps of said imagination and quickly turns away.

"....Barely."

"Why are you staring so hard, huh? Like what you see?" Between the smug grin on his face and the fact he’s one shrug away from being .....exposed, Oro feels they're being eaten alive twice over.

They lie horribly, firmly stating no and watching the grin on Jiraiya’s face grow wider.

"Please go back to sleep." They sigh, knowing this is his way of wearing them down, appalled that it works every time.

"Make me."

"....just don't talk too much. And make yourself decent" they mumble, waving a hand at him, trying to ignore how their heart jumped at the way his voice dipped with those two words.

“I’ll leave you alone in a bit, dollface, I promise” Jiraiya yawns out, leaning his back against the threshold of the fusama and looking back up at the moon.

Oro mumbles something, looking down at their hands then the garden that sprawled before them drowned in moonlight, saying it again, louder, since Jiraiya didn’t respond the first time.

“I said you can stay if you want.”

“I heard you.”

Their ears burn hot at the grin in his voice and all Jiraiya sees is them shifting uncomfortably, and that’s enough for him. The cicadas have long gone, their drones that once filled the air and covered silence giving way to sparse crickets.

“You called me American earlier ...I'm, uh ...we aren’t apart of them...we’ve been fighting them off for a while but…” the corner of his mouth twitches, keeping his voice even “They’re like pests. I might work with them but It’s not like I’ve got the most options in the world.”

“....I apologize” it’s sincere and understanding although short. Jiraiya guesses it’s layered, like most of their words are. He’s found that Oro asking him to try new sweets or flavors is just a way of saying ‘come talk to me’. In this moment, it’s realizing that they really are on the same side, going through the same things.

“You’re fine, seriously. Besides, your apologies are rare and I’ll take them when I can.” he grins, a little more crooked than ever before and Oro levels a glare at him.

“Right, right..” he goes quiet again, taking a moment to let it settle before his head is filled with questions he doesn’t even know where to begin asking, glancing at them occasionally before it inevitably turns into staring.

The crickets do nothing to ease the storm brewing in his head.

“I feel bad ...for getting you caught up in this…I forget that I’m a walking target and that I can’t have friends or get close to people. Honestly, I forget about it when I’m around you. You make me feel like everything's actually normal. But, I see how it worries you and it’s selfish that I don’t….” he spills in front of them again, avoiding their searching eyes, looking at his hands before running them through his hair, ending at the poofy stump of a ponytail at the nape of his neck “I’m sorry. Im just talking again, huh?” Oro looks at him once he’s done rambling, hair falling into their face before pushing it back. Then they frown.

“Do you think I feel bad too? That’s dumb.” they speak softly but the words hit Jiraiya like a brick.

“You use your mouth for everything except for making sense.” they huff, the words sharp and quick, standing up in one fluid movement and clearing the small space between them to pop him gently in the head, speaking over his pained hiss. “Don’t assume things about me and what I want.” they sit close to him, too close when strands of their hair catch onto his shoulder like spiderwebs. “If it was so bad, I would have found a way to keep you the hell away from me. But I’m here, so you’re worrying over nothing.”

“Jesus….” He can't tell if their words hit them harder than their hand.

“I'm not apologizing for hitting you.”

“Yeah I figured as much” he sighs out dropping his hand into his lap “Maybe I need some more sense beaten into me...I just overthink and worry too much…. And don’t tell me I don’t have to worry about you, you’re a walking calamity whether you know it or not.” Not literally of course, just what they do to Jiraiya but he keeps his mouth shut on that, his head coming to rest on top of theirs.

“Don’t confuse me with you.” they lean into him without hesitation, feeling his warmth seep into them “.......Do I really make you feel normal?” They sound...uneasy. Almost in disbelief.

He nods, feeling the silky slide of their hair beneath his cheek before mumbling “Yeah. You do”

He shouldn't feel comfortable enough to say that, protocol demands he be a dead end in every aspect, about as deep as a shallow grave or else he’d be found in one. And yet, here he is, whipped, smitten, head over fucking heels when he shouldn't be, when he doesn't have the right to be.

He’s never been good with following rules anyways so why should he start now? He ignores the itch of his hands to pull them closer and break any further mandates.

“Ah…” Oro suddenly speaks up to clear the air, head bobbing a little and making Jiraiya snap out of it. “Your nickname….I thought of one for you”

“Why am I suddenly scared?”

They pointedly ignore his comment “I think Jiji is good...or it’ll grow on you. Like mold.”

“That’s...not a nickname, that’s an insult?? I'm not some old man...” he makes a face.

“The best ones usually are. And you're old enough.”

“We're the same age. And here I thought you were actually starting to like me….” he sighs dramatically, leaning his full weight in Oro, forcing them to stick a hand out to support themselves “You’re so mean to me it’s not fair.”

“Do you know how heavy you are?”

“No, why don’t you tell me?” They hate when his voice drops like this, trying to shove him away but only managing a few inches and another disaster.

The most amount of skin they’ve seen from Jiraiya was when they were removing bandages or taking out his stitches, still nothing more than slivers and patches of skin but even then they were half averting their eyes the entire time.

But this...they're close enough to see light freckles, old scars and moles running down over his shoulder, fading in and out of sun kissed skin. Had they always been there? How the hell do you still manage to glow like the sun under the moon?? They made the mistake of looking too far and seeing too much. Granted, They always had an idea of what he looked like under his clothes, his bad habits included the ‘hand warming using their chest’ thing (Oro will never understand how they willing let him get bare hands under their clothes, onto their skin, and actually enjoyed it) as well as pulling Oro back into a vice grip against his chest so they’ve felt….a lot. They want to say...it's some sort of spy instinct for him, or because he could be worried that something will happen to Oro in his sleep, or even just liking how naturally cool Oro’s skin is. Honestly, any other reason they'll take because it keeps their face from erupting into a molten red color over what it could actually mean.

The urge they get to run their hands along his chest and down is similar to one they get when they want to knead freshly proved dough and that thought alone made them wheeze out a choked off whine of a noise and scramble away from Jiraiya. They were quick enough that he landed on his side with a thud, cursing under his breath.

“Let’s go, it’s late.” they’re faced away from him, pulling their already tight yukata even tighter and running fingers through their loose hair, ducking back into the room without saying anything else. Oro knows their voice will give them away and does their best to gulp it down. They try to get the smell of rain and lotus flower away by shaking their head, hoping it’ll clear their thoughts as well.

They can feel Jiraiya's eyes burning into them with amusement from where he lay on the ground, sitting up with a wide grin for a moment before getting up to follow after them, not pausing for a moment to even pull his yukata back up and closed.

A book flies out of the room a moment later with ‘I told you to make yourself decent’ being hissed out.

\--

Oro says they'll stop spending his money and go to the onsen with him tomorrow, drowsily breathing the promise against the skin they were so afraid of seeing. Jiraiya says it's bad luck to not keep your promises and he gets a pleasant hum of agreement against his shoulder.

Oro immediately swallows the pill that is their broken promise the next morning when they point out a red hand embroidered yukata with a price tag that makes Jiraiya flat out ignore them for the first time. No matter how many times they call him Jiji in that innocent voice, he’s not giving in.

Although, Jiraiya has the feeling they're enjoying messing with him and he cant help but play into it.

\--

Oro heard that drinking too much before or in a hot spring is really bad for you. Or something like that? It's hard to remember if it was an old wives tale or not while five drinks in and up to their chest in warm soothing water.

They keep their head pillowed on their arms, resting against the rocky edge of the pool of water and trying to keep their eyes open as the steam rises around them, given up on attempting to keep their hair up and letting it float freely and stick to their body. They've been trying to wait up for Jiraiya to come but....

Suddenly there's a curse and a loud splash behind them and no, they don't turn around. The calm water now rising up in small waves to lap at their back.

Speak of the devil and he will surely appear.

They look over their shoulder after a few moments, hair clinging to their face and looking like spilled ink. They watch Jiraiya wipe the water off his face, smoothing his unruly hair back with one hand and it’s suddenly harder to not stare at him. All of him.

"..are you drunk?" They almost said 'too', the words falling clumsily from their mouth.

"Huh? Oh, no I just..." he grins sheepishly, Oro watches the light from the water dance on his skin "Just fell in. I think I tripped..."

"You're...a terrible spy...." they didnt mean for that to come out as slurred as it did.

"Tell me something I don't know" he snorts, wading closer to them and Oro turns around, still leaning against the rock lined edge of the pool with their arms propped up behind them. They watch Jiraiya's eyes flicker up and down once and that draws a short huff of laughter from them.

"...you are drunk." they poorly observe.

"Uh, no, you're drunk, I haven't even gotten through half a bottle of the stuff you picked up. Besides, are you sure it's safe to be in here like this?"

"Mh..." they shrug, noting one of his eyebrows going up "Im fine..."

Oro doesn't know when he started rambling about liquor and responsibility because they tuned him out in favor of staring unabashedly at toned, freckled skin and looking down further into the water to find out that yes, that is his natural hair color, good god....

Jiraiya bets that if you held a match in front of Oro, they'd be able to breathe fire with the amount of alcohol on their breath.

"I always thought you were more upti-....more responsible than this" he chokes back his initial words.

"...I told you... it's not good to assume things." Jiraiya holds back a snort at how their slurring sounds more like a sleepy snake.

"Is it an assumption to say you didn't listen to a single damn word I just said?" He asks with an air of amusement, closing the distance between them, closer to eye level with Oro because of the depth of the pool.

He watches them get quiet, gold eyes sliding to the side to drunkenly contemplate whether it’s really worth it to try and lie right now.

"....maybe." Close enough.

"Wow." He says in English and Oro cocks their head before tipping it back involuntarily from vertigo. Dizzy from the heat or just drunk? Does it matter?

Meanwhile, aside their drunken revelations, Jiraiya isn't trying too hard to not stare at how their chest is pushed out like this, watching the rise and fall of their breathing. Their hair cascades down, wet and heavy, but doing nothing to cover the exposed skin.

There's a moment of haze and Jiraiya is suddenly too close.

"What are you doing?" They can only mumble as they're gently lifted out of the water and placed right on the edge they were leaning on. It's a miracle they keep their voice low and even despite Jiraiya pressing against them momentarily, the grip he had under their thighs sending them into a slight spiral.

"Helping my very, very drunk friend." He steadies a hand on their waist, keeping them from leaning forward too much.

"....you're really close.."

"No shit."

The chill from the night air hits them square in the back, mildly sobering them up, looking down where Jiraiya was still in the water, between their legs and level with their chest.

"....I was nervous. About you seeing me like this...it's good to know you're comfortable." Oro's voice is so soft that the sounds of the water moving blends in with them.

"...oh. Shit, sorry..." he starts to back away, feeling as though he crossed too much of a line this time. Too much staring, too much touching, they were bound to get uncomfortable.

Oro calmly leans forward to gently yank him back in place by his hair.

"Jiji."

"....yeah?" He tries to avoid looking at their body too closely now, eyes darting wildly before meeting Oro’s eyes.

"I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted to come here and relax and I fucked up because...I really, really like wine."

Jiraiya snorts, then ducks his head to laugh and says something in English again that Oro cocks their head at.

"What?" They want to know what he's always saying, how a language makes him sound so different and like the thickest, sweetest syrups the use at the bakery.

"Nothing, nothing...you didn't ruin anything. We're here, aren't we? That's more than enough for me."

"...you're weird." They say, staring at his grinning face.

"Better than being a dipshit, yeah?"

"No, you're that too."

(Oro doesn't know how long they stay like that, or when their hands started to idly twist and curl his hair or when his starting ghosting up their hips to their waist and settling there as he talked and they mumbled.

....This isn't what friends do, is it?)

\--

"Jiji." their low voice pulls him from the edge of sleep,shifting against the mess of extra duvets and damp hair to wake himself up.

"...Yeah?"

"You're always running away ...it pisses me off. I hate playing catch up with you." That makes him open his eyes, looking down his chest where Oro was currently whispering against his skin “I don't want you to leave again and again.”

"I can't control that..." he says it as gently as he can, understanding the meaning of their jumbled words.

"I know. I just wanted to say it." There's a pause and he tries to say something before they talk again but fails.

"You didn't take me with you because I'm just your friend."

"......You're right."

Oro looks up at him, his eyes avoiding theirs again, clear and sharp despite the alcohol still running through them.

"...it's not supposed to go like this, yknow? We're supposed to kiss and I get off with a clean slate and no obligations, staying here with you and eating cake till I die..But.." he meets their gaze, hoping that speaking his fantasy would make it suddenly come true.

"...I know."

And it hurts.

"....I thought you hated me, genuinely." He says quietly.

"Who said I didn't?" They ignore the face Jiraiya makes. "You grew on me...maybe more than that. At least, the parts of yourself you didn't see a reason to lie about. I don't know why you trusted me with it but....its steep, risking your life for honesty. Risking it for..." they try to find the word for what this is, but Jiraiya doesn't let them get the chance.

"Maybe it's worth it." Oro didn't know when his hand had moved, his thumb settled on their lower lip, dragging down slowly before pushing it back up in place. But Oro did know how quickly this sent a wave of uninhibited arousal through their body. Touch starved, the sober part of their mind thinks in disgust.

"Or maybe I just have a deathwish and I'm dumb."

"...both." Comes a breathy rebuttal, glancing down at his hand, curling under their chin.

They could let this happen. They can spend the next few days, hours, seconds pretending that everything was okay until Jiraiya was gone and suddenly it wasn't. They can do this. Something in them wants to.

They don't even feel their own hand moving to cover Jiraiya's mouth.

"You said it yourself. This wont make everything fall into place and be okay. We cant even pretend if we wanted to...neither of us can just drop everything and start again right now. If we did do this, if we stopped playing pretend...we could. And it'd be the death of you and me." Oro isn't sure if their thoughts came out cohesively as they wished, a messy word salad of fear and reason.

They make absolute, complete sense. They're right and he understands that. Rules are in place for him so he can.

A shame he’s never been good at following them.

He nods, a nonverbal lie as Oro pulls their hand away, licking his lips he tastes something familiar but...better.

\--

He clings to them in unconscious worry for the rest of the night, talking them to sleep with as much truth that is allowed of him, which turns out to be more than is actually permitted as they have long drifted off. His hand travels up and down their clothed back, mapping the dip in their spine, still unable to place the scent of them.

\--

"I know how you feel about assumptions but I'm guessing...you dont know how to hold your liquor." Jiraiya speaks to the tightly curled up bundle of pillows and covers that's trying to block out every ray of sun and slight noise, getting a muffled groan in response.

He hums, nodding thoughtfully "Right...I also suppose....you're the dipshit now?" He shifts enough to avoid a kick aimed for his side, grinning as he watched a pale leg slither back under three duvets

"When I said I'd take care of you, I didn't expect this, dollface..."

"Shut up....."

"Wow, not even a please?"

"You're too loud, go the fuck away..." they sound like absolute shit and Jiraiya honestly feels for them but this is just...too funny.

"You're breaking my heart." he throws an arm over them, hearing a low whine.

A knee, he presumes, comes up to hit him dead in his jaw followed by hissed out expletives that he does nothing but smile at while rubbing at his face.

"I'll spend the day alone if that's what you want so badly...." he gets nothing from them, taking it as a yes. He leaves them alone for all of two hours and comes back to watching Oro nurse a glass of water, clam soup and a bowl of rice, appearing coherent despite every ache in their body trying to drag them back to the floor

"I bought you something new to try but...I guess we'll have to wait..." he earns a glare over the rim of the glass.

"I thought you weren't buying me anything else." they rasp out.

"Not when you whine for it." he smiles.

"....I can still hurt you."

Jiraiya rolls his eyes, leaving the boxes and bags he brought in to get close to them despite the empty threats of bodily harm.

"Your hair looks like shit, lemme do something with it." Oro doesn't protest the low voice in their ear and the hand already in their hair. They're tired, beyond hungover and the warmth of Jiraiya settling in behind them is too hard to resist.

"Just don't make me look like you."

He hopes Oro can feel the disgusted face he’s making to the back of their head.

They feel it and ignore it.

He wants to ask if they remembered last night, remembers their walls coming down and letting him in, but the fear of ruining this quiet moment, maybe the last chance of normalcy he has, keeps him quiet. At least he has the distraction of their long, thick hair, taking his sweet time running his fingers through.

\--

"Ten years to get it this long?" He says in hushed disbelief,running both his hands through their now neater hair. They relax as he does, taking note of how their shoulders dropped and they lean back against his chest.

"I cut it all off...for mourning."

"Your mother?"

He feels a jolt of shock when they shake their head.

"...I didn't expect my father to be taken away from me so soon after her. I had already cut it once..when he died I was going to trim it short again but...it was like I couldn't control myself..and soon it was all gone. At first it felt comforting, but I realized I was just punishing myself for something I couldn't control. Over things I had no idea were going to happen or affect my family. Regardless, I didn't deserve to live outside of my room and my hair."

There's a cicada, somewhere far off, droning but receiving nothing but silence as answer.

"It took forever to realize what I was doing wasn't what they wanted for me. Juucheim helped a lot, making me remember that I'm human and not an empty shell."

"When I finally received their wills...what they left for me, what they said...it was closure and release all at once. I threw away every pair of scissors in the house." Their voice has a hint of amusement.

Jiraiya lets out breath he didn't realize he was holding, hands frozen before they curled around locs of hair again.

"...it probably doesn mean much but....I'm glad you let it grow back." He hopes they can understand the deeper meaning of his words, just as he does with theirs.

Otherwise, he just sounds like a fucking idiot who can't listen right now.

There's a soft snort and Oro is leaning away from him a bit, Jiraiya confused before he realized it was a laugh.

"I'm glad too."

Jiraiya lets out a quiet breath of relief, letting his fingers glide thru their hair again.

The cicada drones again, waiting in silence again, answered by a very different but closeby shrill buzzing.

\--

Jiraiya was hoping to share the box of local wagashi with Oro but they managed to scarf down the entire thing while he was doing their hair

"T...there's only two pieces left...I don't like this kind of yokan..."

"Oh, neither do I that's why I left them."

\--

They fall asleep against him, predictably, hair braided and twisted up now as they're warmed by the moving sun.

He can smell the sweetness from the colorful wagashi on their lips.

He forces himself not to lean down and chase it.

\--

"Here." Jiraiya presses a cotton wrapped box into Oro's side, watching them as they stared at it pensively

"What is it?" Their hands start to pry into it before he snatches it back.

"Don't open it yet!" They can't help but roll their eyes, taking it back from him & packing it away.

They mumble something about it being heavy, Jiraiya snorting as he packs his things away too.

He wonders if they would have still coame with him if it was a full two weeks, wonders what could have happened.

And immediately shoves it out of his mind.

Jiraiya feels off, not asking them about what happened the third night, wanting to let them rest the fourth day and now, in the middle of the last day...he still can't find his words.

He shouldn't have any, he keeps telling himself. There's a part of him that knows he's let himself fall too far to just let it dead end like he's supposed to. Hard to parse out if it's a bad thing, terrible for business, surely, but...

"Did you still wanna sightsee?" He blurts out, Oro jumping a bit at his voice.

".....we leave at four so...we have time."

He breathes out a sigh of relief, not giving them a chance to ask why before getting up and nagging them to hurry up with a crooked grin

They almost miss their train, getting lost because they strayed from the leaf covered paths on the onsens grounds, collapsing into their seats short of breath, letting the fall air cool them off, playfully blaming each other for being the cause of their lateness.

(He's glad he didn't ask about the other night, taking the last two days to worry, fuss and figure out what he needs and wants to do.

He hopes they don't kick his ass over this. Or worse.)

\--

'I know how nosey you can be, so don't open that stuff till you get home.' Oro rolls their eyes as they open their door and remember his words, moving in the dark with ease before settling into their room, taking time to unpack and clean up as the sky went from dusk to night.

Oro expected the box to be filled with something dumb like frog coin purses or even just another box. Something..something stupid only Jiraiya could come up with.

They didn't expect the yukata they whined over.

They didn't mean to let out an audible wheeze either.

It takes a moment to pull themselves together, dragging a hand down their face.  
The embroidery is lighthanded but ornate, taunting them in the light. It’s pure impulse when they press their face to the soft cotton, feeling slightly guilty and almost missing what was underneath it.

Oro covers their entire face with the yukata to avoid looking at it, leaning to the side before hitting the floor, quietly repeating 'What??' Over and over again

In retrospect, this might be a little overdramatic of a reaction but they have a right to react this way.

Its black silk, maru mon float woven into it, pink and ivory chrysanthemums standing out brightly and Oro could die. Mostly from shock because of the solid gold obi that came with it, chrysanthemum float woven into it too.

Give him a slice and he'll take the whole cake.

They're a swirl of emotions but one thing is clear: They're gonna kill him. Unfortunately, they can't do it immediately because they don't even know where he's at and he didn't even tell them . Not a surprise at this point but they're still concerned.

It’s annoying how worried they are.

\--

When they get a call at the shop two days later and Anko hands them the receiver with A Face, they know. There's a moment of relief in knowing that he's still alive, and yet...

Oro wishes they could pull his dumbass through the phone.

"Ah...I dont think your friend likes me..."

"Neither do I, now fuck off"

"I miss you too!" They pinch the bridge of their nose as he laughs, holding the phone away from their ear

"What do you want??" They ask once he's shut up.

"To see you."

"......when?" They start picking at their nails, feigning disinterest.

"Tomorrow night since you're not going to the shop, right?"

"......I wonder how you know that." There's a pause then a nervous laugh on his end and Oro knows they finally caught him. No one’s timing is that damn good, they have erratic days for a reason.

"You're a terrible spy." Oro says with more fondness than they mean to.

"I try my best, isn't that what counts? Oh! By the way, you opened the box right?" The smugness in his voice makes them go red.

Terrible.

"I...yes..." their fingers curl around the cord of the phone, listening to him talk about how he had no idea what to get since they're technically between seasons. They want to ask why this and how fucking much but more importantly-

"Jiraiya." They cut into him "What are you planning?"

"....Ah...." they can hear him falter, holding back before he breathes out a laugh "You know I can't plan anything till we take care of that infestation"

".....right." they forgot, suddenly uncomfortable holding the phone. They let go of the cord, almost feeling their palms burn hot.

"Tomorrow." It's hard to tell if he’s confirming or asking.

".....Fine." they hold their tongue, concluding its hard to gauge a lot of things right now

Oro stares at the phone when he hangs up, deja vu creeping over themself.

They feel sick.

Anko comes up wordlessly behind them, tapping a note on butcher paper against their back.

"Your weirdo friend gave me an address and a message. I don't even know if this shrine takes deliveries..."

"...what did he want?" They feel the note pressed harder into their back

"He just told me to write down everything he said, it was kinda cryptic....he seems like bad news, what the hell are you doing?"Her voice is low as she talks, crossing her arms.

"I honestly don't know." Oro can't lie to her, they trust her entirely and don't have the heart to, plus... she'd find out the truth anyways so it's pointless.

"And don't curse, it's not professional," they turn around, holding their hand out for the note,

"I’ll stop when you do." She drops it into their hand "Just be careful around him. He seems.....dumb."

They give her a weary, knowing look before narrowing their eyes

"What did I tell you about your sleeves? They're disgusting, what the hell are you doing?"

She points out they're cursing again and ducks back to the front of shop to avoid a lecture.

Oro doesn't touch the note again until they're home, thinking the note wasn't really cryptic at all. Or maybe it was and they were just used to his riddles. But they soon realize just how wrong they are.

The first thing written was an address, a familiar one since it wasn't too far from them. They know that Inari Taisha does take deliveries, looking over the unfamiliar recipients name and the instructions to cut the baumkuchen into thirds. Then..they squint in confusion for a moment as they read further to bring chrysanthemum, then at the far bottom left of the paper, scribbled harshly from how impatient Anko was getting: ‘'When you see them, go to the third place'

This is beyond cryptic as hell, the only things that make sense are the flowers and the words dollface at the bottom right corner of the paper making their face turn red.

They try to parse it for an entire hour before leaving it in frustration for a cup of tea and something else that wasn't mind numbing to read.

It's not until the dead of night they realize the whole message is a code. They asked him on the last day in Arima about if spies actually use them and he went into cyphers briefly along with layered speech. It wasn't really called that, it was an easier term Oro substituted for it in their head. The repetition of information but with different words at varying intervals to throw anyone listening or reading off and lead them to an informational dead end.

It worked...but too well, Jiraiya has too much faith in Oro that they'll figure it out

The rest of the night is spent trying to figure out which info was true or false, writing useless notes on scraps of paper before eventually falling asleep right on top of the note.

When they wake up, note stuck to their face, they get it.

At least they hope they do. It's all true, for the most part, half instructions and half code.  
They take 'them', the name written down, and take every letter and move it by three. They feel dumb and maybe a little pissed when it doesn't spell anything, staring at the letters.

They're convinced he’s an absolute idiot. Then thinks what an idiot would do.

They cover every third letter and hiss out ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ at the words ' Four- Zero-Gate'

Oro just wants to stay home tomorrow after all this, catch up on the sleep they're currently missing. They try the same with baumkuchen and even chrysanthemums but get nothing but a literal jumble of letters. They can get the cake without problems but the flowers...

It doesn't hit them until they look at the kimono box safely stored away from plants and light in the corner of their room and...... turn bright red.

They're convinced he's trying to kill them instead. And decides they won't let him get the chance.

\--

Jiraiya is tempted to smack his head against the brightly lacquered wooden post of the torii gate, realizing much too late he didn't give them a time.

All that time working on that stupid fucking code in a mixture of showing off for them and making it impossible for anyone but Oro to interpret it and he forgot the time. He could drown himself right now. The sun is dipping below the horizon as he slowly paces back and forth, always returning to the same post, nerves eating him alive as he pulls at the cuffs of his shirt. Maybe he should just go to their house, he thinks but quickly brushes it aside. If they tracked him to Juchheim then it would be nothing to track him there and he'd kill anyone who even thought of trying to get that close to Oro.

When he’s sure no one's around, he gently thuds the side of his head against the torii's post.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing the side of his head. They're smart, much more than him, pushing down worry about them being able to find him.

Jiraiya instead decides to worry about something else entirely,terrified of what they're going to say or do once he gets everything off his chest. Regarding his next moves, what's going to happen and...themselves. Together. What are they gonna do?

He hopes they understand.

"Stop hitting your head on them, its disrespectful."

Ah. Caught.

He turns around, whatever joke he had dying in his throat as he takes them in, sparks of silver and gold catching the lights of the lanterns as Oro closed the distance between them. He knew it would be pretty on them, yes, but not this devastatingly so. Everything they touch is perfect, from food to plants, and now to every fold and tie of silk on their body to the placement of chrysanthemum and ginkgo leaves in their hair. Pretty is a horrid understatement at this point and tries again for something else but he didn’t just forget his words, they fucking abandoned him.

“Stop staring.” Oro speaks over the sound of bells and echoing wood of their okobo.

"You...wore it..." he states -only a little dumbly- glancing at the small, cloth bound box they held.

"....isn't that what you asked?" He's caught between the soft red of their lips and the glittering combs and flora in their pulled up hair, still trying to find something not entirely brain dead to say.

"Yeah! It is, I'm...glad you figured it out." He fixes the cuff of his dress shirt, Oro knowing it didn't need to be adjusted in any way.

"You're just living up to your nickname. You look good when you're not covered in flour, although, you look good enough to eat then too." Jiraiya grins and their ears go red hot.

Oro shoves the box at him, barely waiting for his hands to catch it, walking past him in an embarrassed huff.

"Lets go."

"....Wait, where are you going?"

"Up." They say and he grins again, staring at how their obi was tied into a large golden bow before following and catching up with them. The vermillion of the torii gates and the sunset cast a red glow of crosshatched shadows along the path, the trees barely holding onto their leaves letting fading sunlight seep through their branches. They pass by other couples and people, and the occasional small group, outside conversations trailing past them in the cool autumn air.

\--

"We can't walk all the way to the top" Oro finally blurts out in the middle of their conversation after walking for around thirty minutes. It's quiet now, people having thinned out completely many gates ago, only crickets, bells and their own footsteps and voices filling in between the brief silence.

"Why not? Are you tired? Want me to carry you?" He presses against them, smirking the whole time.

They want to say yes. "Stalling for two hours is pretty dumb. That's how long it takes to get up there. And I'm not risking getting dirt on myself." They stare right at him, catching a surprised expression, only pulling away from them slightly as they continued along the stone path.

"....You're kinda right"

There should be something symbolic, daresay romantic about standing on this bridge at night; moonlight and lanterns illuminating the water flowing beneath as he shares the moment with the person who he’s absolutely fallen for.

It’s hard to feel or see it when you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“If I’m right then what are you waiting for?” Their voice gently stabs into him, he’s almost used to it. Almost.

“I ...don't know. “ Jiraiya sighed, leaning against the wooden railing of the bridge, holding the small box under his arm carefully. He sees them bristle slightly at his answer or rather lack thereof.

“I know you’re sick of me saying that and evading shit….maybe you’re sick of me in general. Listen, I…” he runs a hand over his face, then hair, noting how close Oro had gotten, standing right in front of him with a calculating look.

“.....I don’t really have a plan. I’m going to Okinawa in the next three days, it's only supposed to take two, maybe three weeks tops, collecting info on what really happened there, debriefing, just cycling for a while...a temporary move but...I’m...breaking some rules in the process by sharing what I know with moles from a whole other side stationed in the capital. So now I’m a mole too. ” He glances between his shoes, moving along the wooden slats of the bridge as he slid down a bit, and where the white haneri laid over Oro’s collarbone.

“No one likes a mole, y'know. They’re pests, they ruin and dig up and expose everything you plant and the only way to take care of them is to kill them.”

When he finally gets the courage to look at their face again, it's a familiar expression. The same one Oro gave him when he spoke English. But they way their jaw is tightened shows how fear ran through them; quiet and all consuming.

“I thought about lying to you...or not saying anything at all and just disappearing to not worry you with all this. But ...I knew none of that would work. I couldn’t go through with it in the first place because I can’t hold up a lie when it comes to you” he breathes out a short laugh “Sometimes not saying anything at all hurts the most. That’s the last thing I’d want to do to you.”

“...I told you I didn’t want you to leave.” their words hold a different kind of weight that Jiraiya can’t place, but he’s not worried about deciphering it right now. He’s shocked they actually remembered that night.

“You ...can hold your liquor huh?” he tries to keep his voice steady

“....No, I can’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a good memory.” He watches what little walls Oro has left come down bit by bit, looking past Jiraiya to watch the stream wash over the rocks and reflect the soft light.

“....I really don’t know what I’m doing, chasing after you. Maybe this is a sign that we’re both the same kind of stupid-”

“I think it’s that one.” Jiraiya mutters.

Their eyes roll almost out of habit, focusing on him, assaulted with thoughts of ‘is this the last time I’ll see you?’ “Or maybe... this is the last thing I need to feel human again.” their hands fidget, tugging at the sleeves of their kimono, feeling the thick black silk disrupted slightly by floral embroidery.

“Either way ...You're bringing your hard headed ass back to this town and back to me whether you want to or not.” The seriousness of their tone clashes with their words and Jiraiya can’t help but grin, ducking his head a bit to hide how his face has bloomed with color.

“ Since we can’t seem to stay away from each other, let’s make a bet.” He stands up straighter, still pressed against the railing but leaning down to meet Oro’s face.

“Three weeks. If I come back before then ...I want a kiss from you.” the look Oro gives him is incredulous before it fades into embarrassment, realizing he is absolutely serious and, even worse, realizing how much they want this too. “We’ve gotten this far into our weird confession and it’ll bite if I have to keep dreaming about it, dollface.”

“Fine, just…..” they cant find their words, opting to just push his smug face away “What if….you don’t come back”

“Then don’t cry for me.”

Oro goes still, feeling the words spoken against their palm and staring right at him, waiting for the joke to come but…..they knew, and let their hand drop after a moment. They don’t understand how he’s taking this so calmly, figuring that he’s probably numbed being confronted with his own mortality on a daily basis.

“....deal.” The other half of it clicks, remembering how Jiraiya talks about himself, how brief he mentioned his past, and promises that if something does happen, they won’t let him be forgotten.

“These guys said they can get me out of this whole business if I do this for them. Don't know all the specifics but someone I know trusts them so...it's still a hell of a risk but, if I can take this out, then I don't have to worry about waking up with a knife or two in me every morning. Maybe I can even eat cake with you.” He smiles gently, licking his lips and betraying his words as his hand reaches up to press against their bottom lip, moving slower than before and effectively smearing the red lipstick downwards from their soft lips to the edge of their face.

“.....One condition.” they speak softly, lowly, once he’s pushed their lip back up and successfully avoided melting or dying or even self immolating.

“Yeah?” his voice seeps right into them, questioning but already willing to do damn near anything and it’s making this extremely hard.

“See me before you leave.” They talk against his thumb, watching his eyes light up with interest.

“Oh, that’s all?” his grin this time is wicked and Oro’s eyes roll back into their skull.

“On second thought, don’t,” They immediately turn, walking away from him before realizing they’re going the wrong way and turning around, ears burning at how he followed behind them, laughing along with the bells in their shoes.

\--

Oro realizes they walked down the mountain and home without fixing the lipstick smeared down the side of their face and that Jiraiya didn't even bother to tell them. He was too busy slipping an arm around their waist to toy with the edges of their obi and whisper stupid, stupid sweet nothings and compliments into their very red ear.

Of course, it was the dead of night and no one could see it but it's the principal of the matter. It's the feeling of his fingers on their lips, how Jiraiya looked at them.

They don't take it off just yet either, choosing to run their fingers over their lips again and again as they sit in the dim light of their room, trying to make sense of their own actions. It had been years since they had the chance to dress like this, and the way it made them feel combined with watching it short circuit Jiraiya's brain was blissfully worth it. ‘Stop staring’ they replay the words in their head knowing full well how much they relished the attention.

It wasn't brought up but they wonder if it's too late to pull away now. To let him disappear and let their life fade back into what it was before. It should be easy to let go. What did they really have to hold onto?

There was something, apparently, evidenced by the deepset ache in their chest every time they so much as thought about him.

They keep it off their mind, preventing it from seeping into their thoughts during the day. Work, errands, and aimlessly wandering about the town occupying them for the most part, but the moment they step foot into their home, the realization settles into them again, weighing heavy. Oro tries to not let it pull them down to the floor but it wins out over their already tired body.

They roll over, trying to suffocate themselves with a duvet.

\--

When Anko comments on the odd look Oro has been wearing for the past two days and gets waved off, she snorts.

"What? I didn't know you could look lovesick. Your face is usually just....Sensei." She takes in the shocked expression on their face at the words 'lovesick'.

"Don't say you didn't realize when I had to watch you two...old people flirt right in the front of house every time he came in?" She steadies the box in her hand, almost ready to throw it at their head. Oro doesn't get a chance to answer, covering their mouth as Anko starts berating them.

"You've been sick for that weirdo this whole time and you're just now figuring it out???" Her voice is distressed and face disgusted, having to recall Jiraiya's lonely puppy face as he waited for Oro to come out and talk (flirt) or hand feed him something new. She wishes she could scrub her eyes and ears clean.

"...Anko-"

"Sensei." She speaks over their muffled voice "With all due respect, you're an idiot."

Oro looks away from her, staring intently at the phone mounted on the wall they were crowding themselves against, an arm wrapped around their chest defensively, still talking against their fingers

"...I'm not in love with him." They lie.

Anko feels a headache coming on.

"You're really bad at lying." She peers at them, encroaching into their personal space as they seem to shrink into themselves even more. "You're doing it again, y'know....shutting yourself in." She frowns "You don't have to talk about it with me but don't do this shit again. When you get upset like that, everybody here does too, it's like walking into a morgue, not a bakery.”

"...language." Their voice is weak.

"When you let yourself actually feel something that isn't disdain for once, then I'll give a damn about my word choice." She talks right over them, hands on her hips. Oro sighs, knowing Anko will keep cornering them until they start to make sense. So they nod, unable to voice anything else and she backs away with only a slightly dissatisfied huff.

It's hard to believe a thirteen year old has more stable emotions and reasoning skills than them at an entire twenty nine.

On the other hand, no its not.

They thank her for taking the time to scold them by letting her raid the display case and going home early, although, the punishment for her word choice is still being decided

It rains that evening, the third time in the last few days. Oro was told that it meant change, washing away the old to bring in the new.

They stare into it, nearly getting drenched in the garden as they try to will it away.

They think about Anko’s words before she left as she shoved cookies into her mouth  
'I’m not saying you gotta give up everything for…him, that'd be dumb. But liking someone won't kill you, even if it is with a huge weirdo.’ Oro yanks the towel over their face, damp from their rain soaked hair, unable to understand how she could state that so casually.

Two things pull them from their thoughts, a flash of lightning accompanied by a low roar of thunder and...

The first time it rained, they found it was making a fuss in their kitchen sink. The second time, it appeared in their bathwater and they almost kicked it to the ceiling. Now, sliding open the door to their parents old bedroom, it sticks out like a sore thumb among the snakes.

".....what now?" They ask the toad, knowing they won't get anything in response. It just croaks and croaks until they come find it and then it shuts up. Trying to put it back outside is fruitless, it somehow finds another way in. Oro figures it's too cold, as its fully fall now and it's trying to find a warmer spot, but they don't want to sympathize with a toad, they really don't

They're still not used to picking it up, hating how its skin feels, returning to their room and setting it into a flower pot

They settle down, room dark, pushing and pulling duvets and blankets to pull over themself and turning on their side to watch the rain hitting the window to help them drift off.

Until the toad starts making that low, guttural call again, jolting them awake.

It does so periodically through the night, waking Oro each time. There's not much they can do besides wait for it to just stop or eventually leave, which it always does.

And maybe it's a little disheartening when it does, it’s calls intermingled with the rain were becoming soothing. The forecast said nothing of rain after this week, so Oro might have begrudgingly said to it after being woken for the third time 'Don't be dumb and nearly freeze to death when you go. I won't let you back in no matter how cold or noisy you are.'

\--

The next time they wake up, the rain had stopped but the clouds still hung dark and low in the sky. They groggily run a hand down their face before scratching at their head, hearing the sound of the distant train and

A knock.

They don't need a clock to tell them that it's barely morning, the sun still trying to rise let alone shine through the thick clouds. Oro slowly gets up, noting the cold again and pulling on a second yukata, not much else going into their appearance as they moved to answer the door.

“..J-Jiji..” the nickname escapes their mouth breathlessly the moment the door opened and Jiraiya settles that this was the best one he’s ever received.

He doesn’t focus on that now, or how Oro is trying to fix the disaster that is their hair with clumsy fingers weighed down with sleep. He instead stares at the striped yukata sticking out underneath the newer, bright red one they seemed to have quickly slung on, noticing how it almost trails behind them and it's hard not to smile.

“Good to know you like your gift so much you only wear it to sleep ” He teases, watching their eyes narrow in confusion before their usual, annoyed expression surfaces, hands coming down to cross their arms, the embroidery of the sleeves catching what little light there was.

“It’s too cold to wear it for anything else now. And it’s not my fault that I didn't have time to pull myself together since someone felt the need to wake me up before the sun had even risen”

“You’re the one who told me to come over. I guess we’re both bad at specifics, huh?” He leans down just slightly to mumble the last few words, taking in how Oro’s eyes dart quickly before they locked with his.

“I suppose...” they speak softly, taking half a step back, then a full one, stopping when they notice Jiraiya doesn’t take the cue to follow, eyes flickering down as he chooses to drag and scuff very polished shoes against their porch.

“If I come in I won’t be able to leave, dollface.” he ducks his head, leaning against the door frame, never actually crossing the threshold and instead choosing to fill it with his full height clad in black.

They don’t comment on the out of place color on him, nor the box under his arm.

“....You say that like it’s such a bad thing.” His head dips further at their words, Oro quick enough to catch the flush of red on Jiraiya's face, his hand the only part of him crossing the doorway as it curls around the wooden frame.

“You have the worst timing for jokes, yknow?”

“That’s what you take my honesty for? That’s mean.” they step forward again, holding a hand out this time.

“You’re the mean one.” he says half-heartedly, staring at their hand for a moment before pulling the box from under his arm and handing it over, watching with a snort as Oro quickly realized they needed two hands for it.

“I take it the same rules apply to this box as well?” their fingers itch to pry it open regardless, ignoring Jiraiya’s sickeningly sweet ‘awww you remembered!’

“Although…” he cocks his head as Oro speaks, thunking against the doorframe as they carefully slide the box onto a small, low table in the entryway, the snake shaped statuette previously occupying the space being placed atop the box.

“I expected something different from you this time, regarding the circumstances.”

“Different how?” Jiraiya picks up on their switch to formal speech, the embarrassment they’re trying to hide behind it. He follows their slight movements as they try to find the best way to beat around the bush.

He almost misses the way their eyes bore into him in an almost familiar way, trying to place where he’d seen it before.

“....something with less impulse control. Different, but maybe regular for you”

Ah.

The hot spring.

“Is this…are you flirting with me?” his smirk is threatening to become something bigger, thrown by how they twisted such reserved words into….that.

“I make one suggestion and that’s what you make of it? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh my god, you are!” Oro is rolling their eyes full force at the return of his grin.

“But we have a bet, remember? Though ...every contract has a loophole. I can give you something else on one condition” he steps back ,only slightly and still smiling ever so widely.

“I can't come in…...but you can come out.”

Oro levels him with a look.

“Its wet.” they didn't mean for it to come out leaning so strongly to refusal, more like they were just stating facts.

But it's not like he’s ever taken no for an answer anyways.

“I promise that’ll be the last thing you worry about.” his voice edged with amusement somehow convinces them to step forward, immediately making a face the moment their bare foot meets with the cold wet wood.

True to his word, it's the last thing Oro is thinking about when they’re swept up into a tight hug, barely touching the cold, rain soaked flooring anymore.

“Honestly, it's the little things that scare me lately” he mumbles right into the crook of their neck, feeling his words travel through their body.

“....mh.” Oro says nothing more, struggling to get themselves to a place where they can talk without a tremor and focus on anything else besides his hand dipping under their collar, pushing the loose fabric down to press his fingers into their cool skin.

“Funny how they all seem to revolve around you.” his other arm slides around them tighter, pressing them flush together.

“Also funny how much you complain about the cold despite feeling like you’ve just walked out a freezer”Jiraiya feels a sharp pinch to the back of his neck and grins.

“Hugging and insulting me isn't what I had in mind of ‘something different’.” Oro jabs another finger into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of lotus and rain.

“It’s not like you specified what different meant but I’ve gotten good at reading between your lines” he mumbled into their skin and they feel the words shoot through their spine again.

Oro wants to pretend they don’t know what that means but it’s hard to when there’s lips then tongue then teeth chasing down the cold skin of their neck and shoulders, leaving them warm and breathless. It's difficult to speak without making some kind of ungodly noise right now with the way Jiraiya's hand is buried in their hair, tilting their head back so he can bite his way up to their jaw.

When the smallest sliver of morning sun finally pierces through the heavy clouds and hits Oro directly in the face, they suddenly remember they’re outside, now in broad daylight. They breathe out a shaky curse, tugging on whatever parts of Jiraiya they were previously gripping onto to make him let go.

So when Oro tugs at his hair and receives a low groan against the dip of their collar bone and a hand clawing at their back, they short circuit for all ten seconds before actually yanking too hard, listening to him repeat ‘ow’ until they feel cold, wet wood meet their feet again.

“You taste like....something” Jiraiya says, out of breath and visibly disheveled, a wild grin on his face.

“S-something??” Oro had stumbled back a bit, given up on trying to cover their bare shoulders and instead hiding their neck with their hands.They look even more of a mess than when they woke up, they know it and don’t want to dwell on how much they don’t care.

“I dunno...it’s familiar. Definitely sweet. But I think I can figure it out if you let me try again.” He steps forward, eyes dark, catching the little noise they make before watching them step back right over the threshold.

“You can't come in, remember?” their words grow softer as he closes the distance anyway, just barely stepping into the doorway.

“Ah, Sorry…” he notes they don’t evade him out of fear, letting the tension drain out of himself.

“No you're not.”

“Okay half sorry.” He smiles as Oro drops their hands to huff and cross their arms, counting around 8 prominent marks between their neck and shoulders.

“When does your train leave?”

“Ten minutes...maybe less”

“Your lack of self control is going to make you late, at least don’t show up looking like a mess.” Jiraiya is a little surprised when they reach out, tugging at and smoothing the lapels of his suit, catching the wooden charms on their wrist. He wonders why he didn’t notice earlier before remembering he was trying to make a meal of them two minutes ago.

He takes their wrist before they pull away, fingers rubbing against the worn wooden beads, staring at the little snake carving hanging above the omamori.

“No wonder I haven't croaked yet. Letting you bully me has its benefits after all.” he moves to pull away before Oro stops him, using their fingers to slide the beads and charms onto Jiraiya's wrist, much to his surprise.

“It's not just good luck, its prosperity too. I think you'll need it more than me now.”

The train sounds again, much closer and maybe even more urgent, Jiraiya curses under his breath and reluctantly pulls away from the doorway.

“I-“

“Fix your hair before you get to the station.” They say simply, arms tightening around themselves and he realizes this is their goodbye. He runs a hand through his unruly hair, not doing much to make it look better as he steps away, finding it hard to turn his back.

“......I’ll see you soon.” He speaks shortly despite the thousands of words he wants to say, hand squeezing the back of his neck and feeling the charms hit his shoulder.

“I know.” Oro’s eyes widen as they watch him press the wooden snake to his lips and with a dazzling grin, hes leaving.

He's leaving, taking a larger piece of Oro than their wooden charms. He’s leaving and they can’t bear it after all. They force themselves inside the dark house, closing the door before pressing their face against the hardwood, feeling their body cool down for several minutes. Then, they’re sliding down, first their bare shoulder, then back, dragging against the grain before ending up on the floor in a heap of silk and cotton.

Their first thought is that they should at least move to their room, this isn’t a proper place to sit at. But soon their head meets the flooring and their thoughts and hair spill across it all the same and Oro can’t think much of anything anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a big fat update to apologize for me falling off the earth with my fics but it also took forever to edit so I stuck both hands in my mouth with this one oops,,,but I still enjoyed it!!! And now I can go update my other stuff. There's one more part to this series left and I'm gonna go out with compacted bang....next year. Okay thank you bye.

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie this was actually faster than starting from the ground up with my other fics hahaaaaa, still don't know when exactly I'll update this bad boy but it'll be faster than my others :'). Speaking of, I'm working on my previous fics again bc holy cow updates need to happen, plus a commission for a friend which I hope to have posted before fall! Okay thank you bye!!


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